June 2018

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This weekend, Aurora Shoe Companyis generously offering the following gift to ONE lucky SouleMama reader:

One pair of shoes, any style, any color.

In addition, Aurora Shoe Company would like to offer SouleMama readers free shipping on all domestic orders received through 7/15/18. To receive the offer, please enter "Soule Mama" at checkout.

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To enter today's giveaway, leave a comment below (one entry per person, please). Comments will close by 9 am EST on Sunday. Winners will be chosen by Random Number Generator and announced in this post shortly after. Comments closed. The winner is...

I would love to try these shoes. Thanks for this opportunity!Posted by: Cathy Wilkerson

So this (above) just happened! When we sat in the back of that car with Bruce on that below-freezing night in December, watching his home disappear behind the flames - the air temperature too cold for the firetruck hoses to do much besides freeze solid - I told him that there was no question he was coming home with us. "You're family, Bruce....we'd be happy to have you." I'm not sure that in that moment I thought it would be a six month stay (in fact, I'm sure I didn't). But that's exactly what it ended up being, Bruce having just moved into a new home in the same spot as his last mobile home, on the land where his old farmhouse once was, just this week.

When we first moved to the farm, and this new-to-us area of Maine, eight years ago this September, I think we (Steve and I) thought we'd find our people here. And by that, I think we meant people just like us. I feel foolish saying that now, but it was the truth. I thought tucked into the woods here and there all around us, we'd find other homesteaders, maybe even some homeschoolers, but certainly people with similar values and daily lives to ours, just exactly like the folks and community we spent our time with in Portland. We didn't find that. At first, I was sad about that, and even a little lonely. For a moment, we questioned our decision to move here. And then slowly, as time went by and the years have come and gone, we've settled into it as it is, and embraced the way in which driving to our friends and activities is a trade off for where we live and what we have here. But also, in that time, we've come to find a different community - a community of people NOT just like us. A community I was never expecting. And that, well that's been a greater gift and blessing than I ever could have imagined. Rural living has a way of doing that, I think - there simply aren't enough people for us to only be amongst people "just like us,' safe in our isolated little bubble of likemindedness!

Instead, we found ourselves with an 85 year old Maine man sitting at our dinner (and breakfast and lunch) table each night for the past six months, adding tall tales and wild stories (and sometimes questionable ones too) to our lives and our children's minds. We've gotten to know countless of his hunting buddies that are our neighbors, our community, no matter how clearly politically divided we may be on the outside (something that previously might have kept us from even knowing one another?). And while so many people have said we've given Bruce such a gift, I argue strongly that it's he who has given us the gift, that he started giving the day we met him eight years ago. He is the one who welcomed us here with open arms from the moment we showed up here - no judgment from that lifelong Mainer, farmer, and father about all the foolish things we attempted and sometimes failed at because, well, we had no idea what we were (are) doing. No raised eyebrows at my wild children in the dooryard, not going to school. And absolutely, he was always there to lend a hand, a tractor, a tool, whenever we needed it. I have not been the most patient of a hostess always, I hope you know. I am far from as perfectly gracious as I would like to be, but I'm learning about what community means and what being a good neighbor is. And I'm learning from the people around me, right here where I am. Our people.

The kids have tucked Bruce properly into his new home next door, taking with him the boxed cereal my teen children loved to 'borrow' from him late night (he says they can walk over for breakfast sometimes, which I am certain they will take him up on). And my own house rearrange has begun to fill that empty space up (and Gram comes back for her summer visit soon! Yay!). But this time together has been something we'll all always remember, I know without a doubt. I'm so grateful.

We spent Summer Solstice at the beach, as was fitting. This season so short, it must be celebrated! The wonderful and wise woman (a mama herself) who is caring for my littles when I'm working these days quickly figured out the answer to my children's sibling strifes before I could even tell her. And that answer is, and always has been, water. Whether it be lake or stream, ocean or river...there's just something magical about the water that somehow literally washes away all troubles and brings them together, somehow altering the shape of the mood and shifting the energy. I've seen it over and over again throughout the years and I can't really explain it except to say that it just is. And I get it. It's a breath of fresh air, a recharge, a shift, that always happens when we gather in or by the water.

Whatever it may be, it surely is a short season of summer around these parts, and I'm ever so glad for the reminder - and another reason - to savor it!

All told, there's a little over a gallon of Chive Vinegar on my shelves, waiting for the right moment. I love this for drizzling over salad mostly, as a base for a vinagrette, and it's ever so simple to make. After harvesting the chive blossoms, I rinse them and let them dry. Then I fill most of a jar full of them, pouring enough vinegar over them to cover (this batch was with white wine vinegar). Place the lid on and let sit in a cool dry place for two weeks or so, at which point I strain out the chives and bottle the vinegar. Easy peasy. And those pretty jars of pink blossoms infusing on my counter are every so pretty as well. Win-win!

Thank you for your kindness in response to our sad news yesterday! It meant so much to hear such encouraging and gentle words, certainly helping in the healing and forgiving (of self) process. Also helping, of course, is time spent in the garden. I've been there as often as I can lately, soaking it all up and digging in deep. It just makes me so happy, tending that garden of mine! Annabel, still going strong on her little garden cottage after all these years, is still hanging out with me lots. We talked this year about taking the "cottage" (that her older sister built for her many birthdays ago), because it's about to fall down on its own, but she would have none of it. She loves that thing. And funny, like most garden cottages I wonder, she doesn't spend a lot of time IN it, just AROUND it. I love that. And since it looks as though she's here to stay in this corner of the garden, we got to work this weekend on making her a permanent garden bed for perennials. She's so pleased.

I've been cutting and drying herbs with a flurry of late, pulling in lemon balm, stinging nettle, mint, oregano, chives, sage, comfrey and more to dry for winter use. And each time I do, I drop a few in a half gallon mason jar and add water to drink throughout the day. Herbal hydration!

Death is such a big part of the "life" of this farm, any farm. It goes hand in hand with so many critters, so many variables, and so many possibilities. There are the deaths we plan on - the ones we do with our own hands each year, as we harvest the meat we eat with love, respect, and so much care. There are the deaths by mercy we sometimes choose to do - as we otherwise watch an animal slowly and painfully dying a death from illness or predator. There are of course the deaths by natural causes, old age, and those are sad as we've known the critter for so long by then, usually. I've come to know the look on Steve's face when he comes in from chores, and I'm guessing he knows my pained look too. Each death can be hard to take, but the ones that hurt the most, the ones that linger in my mind and heart for a long while, are the preventable ones. I would like to think - and I bet every homesteader would - that we run a tight ship, that things are safe, and that precautions are in place. But I, like ever other farmer I know, would be wrong to assume that mistakes and oversights - with terrible consequences - aren't possible and sometime inevitable on whatever farm we keep.

All that to say, we lost a sheep this weekend - sweet Nutmeg, daughter of Cinnamon. We didn't find her until it was too late. She had escaped her pasture, somehow broke into the chicken coop, filled up on grain to the point of bloat/choking - and all in the time between morning and evening chores, she passed away. Sweet Nutmeg, with her beautiful moorit coloring and sweet soul, died while I was just a few hundred yards away in the garden all day, never knowing. The kids playing games nearby all day. Steve working in the adjacent pasture. There is so much we could have done had we seen/known/heard. So many should have, could have, would haves.

My heart is heavy from the terrible nature of this death on my watch. Something I could have prevented. I'm only slightly comforted as I talked this weekend with several of my shepherdess friends, all amazing women who love their flock and take such good care, and each has experience nearly the exact same scenario. (Tammy wrote so beautifully about this very thing happening at her farm last year, that I read this post three times this weekend, each time aiding in a good cry!)

I don't have a tidy, rosy way to wrap up this story. No neat bow to tie, or happy knitting project to make it all pretty. The kids are all fine - sad, but well-adjusted in the way that farm kids are to these kinds of things. Of course I'll take extra precautions moving forward and I'm fairly sure this particular accident might not happen again. But there are always other things. And while you know I love to keep things positive and cheerful around here, I think it's important to also share the flip side of that once in a while. For the reality is that these heartbreaking and sad moments on the farm are a big part of what make the joyful and beautiful ones all that they are. And that they truly are.

I finished my Egg Gatherer embroidery project yesterday! The pattern is by Leah Thibault, and we are selling the complete kit in the Taproot shop currently. I had to snag one for myself, because hello cute egg gatherer! It's such a sweet and simple project, something easy to work on in all kind of settings. All of my knitting projects currently require my full attention and so I haven't had much opportunity for that. But! Something like this was easy to bring with me anywhere and work on while chatting. Every time I do one of these I'm reminded just how much I really love embroidery!

I have grand hopes for some more crafting this weekend - I've had a dress cut out and ready to stitch for weeks now, and then there are those knitting projects! So many possibilities....

Taproot's Issue 27::BLOOM is now out in the world! There's a whole lot of goodness inside, and I hope you'll pop on over to check it out and grab your copy if you don't already subscribe. But today, rather than showing you a little bit of the whole issue as I usually do, I wanted to take you deeper into just one of the stories, one that I became so familiar with from start to finish! In recent issues, With a pretty stelar Taproot team able to keep things a moving without me, I've been enjoying doing a little more photography for the pages, once again. I've found a good storytelling partner in my friend Stacy Brenner, whose thoughtful and curious nature make for such a great interviewer. I let her do her thing, interjecting here and there, but mostly stepping back and poking around places and spaces taking photographs. We've done a few of these collaborations now, and besides loving the work we do on the storytelling, there's also the bonus of squeezing in a working visit with a dear friend.

But the real joy comes in being able to dive deeply into the workings of the people and places we're writing about and photographing. Jasper Hill Farm was such a fascinating place to visit! For the love of cheese, but also for the love of thriving rural economies, and for the love of family and business and how those can and must fit together. Matteo was so generous with his day, showing us all around the gorgeous cheese caves and answering all of our questions.

I don't carry my giant camera around with me quite like I used to, and it's rare these days that I'm so excited to get home and get the photos off my camera card. Certainly this was one of those days, wanting to relive it a bit and look even more closely through the photographs. My littles have a strong love for the Jasper Hill Winnimere Cheese, which comes out at special occasions at our house. After this visit to Vermont, arriving home with photographs of said cheese - and with a little bit of it in my bag for dinner - they were happy to see Mama at the end of this day!

Stacy's words about Jasper Hill are far more eloquent and interesting than mine, and I hope you'll find a way to read them in the pages of Issue 27::BLOOM, along with so many other inspiring stories and crafts and food around it.

And if you are already a subscriber, thank you, thank you! You are the one and only reason we are able to keep on telling these stories!

I'm in the middle of a four day stretch of being at home, with the perfectly corresponding amazing weather I need to be in the garden. I've been waiting for this all season, this long stretch of days to finally truly dig into the garden. I felt a little behind for a while there, and decided to let that go and do what I could. Somehow, in little pockets of time - in the same way I'd knit a sweater - it's coming together. One little pocket of planting at a time. For the first year since we moved here, I didn't grow the garden space bigger this year. This isn't the season of my life for that - there are too many other important things happening that I want to be fully present for without the worry of feeling behind in the garden.

Still, it feels so good to be here, and I'm so grateful that the kids are still willing to hang out with me here, even if that just means sitting beside me to talk, and having me captive while I weed a garden bed.

Lilac season has come and gone, as always, in the blink of an eye. We've moved onto the iris', and poppys, and so many other things in the perennial garden. I think it'll be peonies this week. I don't want to miss any of it!

Well that was a whirlwind of fun! I spent the past six days in Shaftsbury, Vermont where Taproot sponsored and helped host the New England Fiber Arts Summit at Wing and a Prayer Farm. The days were filled with classes by such great folks and teachers as Katrina Rodabaugh, Cal Patch, Bristol Ivy, Thea Colman, and Susan Anderson. And the nights filled with the sounds of the farm animals, plenty of pool action, and a whole lot of women gathering together, handwork in hand, laughter in hearts. I got a lot of embroidery done, too busy talking or listening to really focus on a knitting pattern. On Saturday, we opened up the farm for an Open Farm Day and a Taproot Maker's Market in the barn, which is officially my new favorite place to hold any affair. Farmer Tammy (and her daughter Char) have such a beautiful farm and business, but even more so beautiful hearts and spirits, and a truly lovely collection of women of all ages who gather around them. It was hard to remember that this was 'work' when it was such a delight. Surrounded by pretty much the cutest array of farm animals ever (roughly 175 in head count!)

Ah....getting away from it all to connect with likeminded folks? It's a treasure, and such a blessing.

But home is oh so good too, and I'm glad to be here, feet firmly planted in my garden and the world of end of year concerts, recitals and celebrations!

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Greetings! I'm Amanda Blake Soule - mother of five, author of three books on family creativity, and editor-in-chief of Taproot Magazine. I live with my family in an old farmhouse in Western Maine where we raise animals, grow vegetables and make lots of things. I write about it all here on the blog. Thank you for visiting!